Welcome Ray Bradbury, to your First October in Heaven!
the pumpkin hallowed angels sang
and scarlet fringed, crowned, laureled, old friends, new-
refrained from story-telling for a while
when Ray got up to speak:
Poe, the others, Dickens, surely-
Washington Irving…Hoffman, E.T.A.
Evgeny Zamyatin. Fellini…
it's such a ravishing day
I’m glad I’m here
where it’s always frosty morn and bright cerulean;
the corn’s forever shorn, the dreams fresh-tassled …
vita-nuova green
there’s spearmint in the drizzle!
and me without my hat or a spigot!
Significant are the pies:
I’ll have a few of this and that…
and light is always misting for the missed
who’ll join us, soon enough. Sweet Margery smiled
at his ebullience, Ray, self-styled the same but glorified
and more than ever, twice the child his cheeks all chipmunk
plumped with candy corn
(no calories now, he chortled, not that I ever cared)
here’s my best jagged jack o’lantern grin for far away fans-
I’m all out-of -doors forever!
in the crispest apple pie fluted air;
Here! Have a wedge please, to begin
the wide-eyed crystalized candied Fair
that never ends; the cotton candy that can’t disappear
(or friends, and that’s the best of all he sighed, but happily);
the hot dog mustard relish partaking, sure, you bet!
and smothered in onions.
the wild blue lightening half-way tamed into
and that quick out of the bottle and tangoing,
chock full of harmless tricks. and rabbiting scarves of rainbows broken off-
merely for Party favors…at His behest…
that Ferris spitting fireworks near the crystal tent of God
could make the bees knees turn to jelly
where the gold-leafed leaves blow over randomly
the wine dark purple stars…then linger on.
(and John Keats smiled. And Shelley.)
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